Honor Among Thieves
by slaine89
Summary: A stranger finds Joe near death and decides to help him but things are complicated by Joe's inability to remember who he is and by the man's own dark past
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The young man was small, built lightly but powerfully for all that, like a sleek cat. Not one ounce of his body was wasted on excess fat; instead every inch of him was toned. He was a man used to hard work. He wasn't that bad looking either with still wet brown curls plastered to his face. His clothes were well made, or at least they had been before he'd fallen into the river, tan pants, finely stitched boots and a soft green jacket. At his side there was an empty holster, twisted sideways slightly from the force of the water and with its string still tied his thigh: the mark of a man who knew one end of a gun from the other. And he couldn't have been older than eighteen.

It was that that had stopped me from riding past and just treating the young man lying on the bank like an old log pushed up on shore after the river had finished battering it. After all, it wasn't like I didn't have my own problems, and they were probably hot on my trail. I certainly didn't have time to take care of stray wanderers too stupid to stay away from a river whose waters were swollen past its banks and ready to flood from too much rain. It had been a miracle he'd been washed up at all instead of simply being sucked to the bottom. He was probably dead anyway. In which case there would be no harm in me riding right past him.

Then again, if he was dead it wouldn't take too much time for me to pull him farther away from the water. Just in case it rained more. Someone might be looking for him, I reasoned. At least this way there would be a body for them to find. So I dismounted, crouched down in the mud, and reached under his sopping green jacket to drag him backward. As I did his head lolled back, and his eyes fluttered. I paused, thinking that I'd imagined it. But then his lips parted, and something between a mumble and a moan slipped out.

_Damn._

Again I thought about leaving. I didn't know him; he didn't know me. He wasn't my problem. But his eyes fluttered again, and the bumps on his face made him look even younger than he probably was, which was still undoubtedly young.

_A kid._

I wasn't to the point where I would leave a kid to die alone by the riverside while a coyote waited nearby. Not yet anyway. I lifted him and swung him over my saddle. My horse turned to glance at me, and I couldn't blame her. We'd been riding long and hard, and I was sure the added weight wasn't welcome. I swung aboard behind the kid and nudged the horse forward. I would take him to the next house I found and dump him on the doorstep. Then both my horse and I could happily forget we'd ever seen him.

We rode until nightfall and didn't see a soul. Normally I preferred places where you could ride and not see anyone for days. At the moment though, I wished I was in a more populated area. Riding with another person draped over the saddle in front of you isn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. As the day dragged on and the land grew more desolate I found myself envying his unconsciousness. At least he didn't know how uncomfortable he was.

Or maybe he did. He was mumbling and groaning to himself, and every little jolt made him give a weak mutter. The jolts were growing more and more frequent now. Tip was as surefooted a horse as they came, but even she couldn't ride smoothly over the broken ground that we were covering.

Then there were the times when he would go absolutely quiet, and automatically I would reach down with my right hand to feel for a pulse. Once or twice I halted just to be sure. Each time he was alive though – barely. I didn't know whether to be relieved or not. But as the sun finally set I gave up. We weren't going to reach a house and it was no good blundering about in the dark waiting for Tip to stumble and break her leg. I dumped the kid on the ground and set to work untacking and making a fire. My horse came first, then me, then the useless piece of luggage I'd picked up.

When I finally got around to him it was nearly dark, but his face was so pale it seemed to almost glow in the firelight. His forehead was creased, and he was muttering again. Delirious. I managed to get some water down him and used his neckerchief as a wet rag on his forehead. He was lucky there was a creek nearby or I wouldn't have gone to the trouble.

There wasn't a lot I could do for him. His shoulder had been dislocated, but I fixed that easily enough, and otherwise he only had bumps and bruises. I didn't know how it was possible that he'd come out of that river with so little harm.

"Must have a good guardian angel." I muttered. Hopefully for his sake it was still around. Either he would come out of this fever or he wouldn't. In the meantime all I could do was huddle by the fire and wish that I hadn't given him my blanket and my coat. Chances were he wouldn't make it. I had no way of knowing how long he'd been laying by the river in the mid autumn chill, but judging by his fever it had probably been hours, maybe even overnight. And if he did die, it meant that I would have spent a night shivering for nothing.

"Zeke."

I looked around. It was the first intelligible word he'd muttered so far. Which meant he was getting stronger. I still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

But I was curious.

"Zeke who?" I asked. I didn't move from my spot. If he couldn't hear me across the campfire that was his problem.

"Sullivan." He jerked a little and nearly rolled into the fire. I sighed and got up to push him back over. Then I flipped him around so that the other side of his body could be close to the warmth too.

"Was it this Zeke Sullivan that pushed you into the river?" I asked. But whatever coherence he had had was gone, and he went on muttering to himself in words that I couldn't understand. I sat back down and crossed my arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When the sun rose there was no question that he'd be able to travel. He was thrashing back and forth, and now I could make out a few more words like 'brother' and 'thief'. That made me perk up and listen, but then he would go back into incoherence. A couple of times he nearly sat straight up and shouted "Run!" Whether he was talking to this Zeke person or himself or someone else I didn't know. But I did know that there was no way he could move now. Chances were he'd jerk himself right off the horse. So I left him to his ramblings and went to shoot a rabbit for breakfast.

The fact that he was able to move around and talk meant that he was getting stronger, which if he continued to do so meant that he might snap out of his fever. Which in turn meant that I'd be here for a while. With that in mind I set a few snares, cursing all the while. I should have been well on my way to San Francisco by now, not stranded in the middle of the God forsaken wilderness nursing some half drowned kid. What I was carrying nagged at me like an itch I couldn't scratch, and each day of delay made it worse. I thought about just leaving. It wasn't like there was a whole lot I could do here anyway. Not while he was still unconscious.

He picked just then to shout his warning again, and I wondered who it was he was telling to run. Was there someone chasing him? The last thing I needed was more trouble. I picked up my saddle and swung it onto Tip's back. She glanced at me, her large brown eyes seeing deeper than I ever let any human do. Was I imagining the reproach there?

"I've done all I can do." I told her. Or myself. It didn't matter which, because neither of us believed me. I swung the saddle down. He would either die or be up in the next day or so, and then I could be on my way. One day wasn't going to kill me.

Well, it might. But my hand strayed to my hip, and I felt the reassuring smoothness of my gun beneath my fingers. There might be trouble following behind, but I could wreak my own fair share of trouble as well. Besides, disappearing into the wilderness for a while might not be such a bad idea.

We couldn't stay here though. It was too much in the open and too close to the road I'd left a few miles back. I glanced at the kid. He was lying still, still mumbling, but not thrashing around. This time I swung the saddle up onto Tip with a purpose, and I barely noticed when she glanced back except to cock my elbow slightly. She'd never bitten me before, but it was a habit learned from other horses that had.

I scouted around for nearly three hours before I found a place to my liking. It was a little far from the snares I had set, but I could always move them, and most importantly, it was settled on top of a hill amidst a pile of large boulders. I could look down to the east toward the road and see the land spread out before me, but I had the rocks at my back, easy to get lost among if I had to slip away. There was plenty of dry brush around, wood that wouldn't make a lot of smoke. With the new campsite settled upon, I went back for the kid. He muttered something when I lifted him up onto Tip, but then when I set him down again, his eyelids flickered a little. I pushed my face closer to his, and the eyes opened a crack.

"Pa?" The word was barely audible.

"Not quite." I said drily. He didn't answer, and I straightened and took another look at him. Just how old was this kid? Sleeping now with his eyes closed, he looked around eighteen, but his soft pleading voice had made him seem so much younger. I frowned and roughly brushed the dirt off the knees of my pants.

"Your pa had better be grateful for all the trouble I'm going through for you, kid." I muttered.

He woke up again that night, but not long enough for me to get any information out of him, just long enough for him to drink the rest of the water I'd brought along and go back to sleep. His fever was gone, and without its burning strength coursing through his body, the boy seemed limp and weak. He'd need something besides water to help him get back on his feet.

I went back to get more water and checked the snares on the way. The first three were empty, but the last one had a small bird struggling inside it. Not much, but better than nothing. I snapped its neck and brought it along. As I crossed the empty land below the campsite, I glanced sideways and back several times to make sure no one was following me. I doubted there would be anyone; whoever Clancy had sent to tail me would probably just ride to the next town without bothering to think that I might change course. But I couldn't know if anyone had been following the kid.

"Sure would be nice to know." I muttered to myself as I boiled some of the water. I let the bird simmer in the water to make a kind of broth since I doubted the kid would be able to eat anything whole. As the broth simmered, my nose twitched, and my stomach began to make its presence known. I stirred slowly. That kid had better wake up soon or I'd eat his dinner myself.

As if on cue, he started to shift, but it was a different kind of movement than his fevered thrashing. He wriggled slightly on the uncomfortable ground the way someone does when they're slowly waking up to their surroundings but not quite alert yet. After a moment his eyes opened and focused on me, and I waited for him to say something. He seemed to want to, but there were too many questions in his eyes, and he didn't know which one to start with. I didn't feel obligated to help him.

"Who are you?" he finally asked. His voice was raspy and hoarse, and I placed the canteen closer to him.

"No one special." I said. "Just a traveler." Just because I'd saved his life didn't mean he needed to know anything about me. "And who are you?"

The mouth opened then closed, and there was a flicker of panic in his eyes as they swept back and forth frantically, looking for some sort of foothold in his mind.

"I don't know." He finally said. His voice rasped again, but not from thirst this time.

I sat back on my heels. Well this was a twist. I guess I'd been too hasty when I'd thought he'd escaped from the river unscathed. I could still see him mentally fumbling, as if for a match in the darkness. I decided to help him out.

"I pulled you out of the river." I said.

"What river?" he asked.

"Spruce River." I eyed him. "Do you know where you are?"

He shook his head, and I inwardly sighed. Of course it couldn't be a simple matter of keeping an eye on him until he woke up and then going on my way. Why should it be?

"You're about thirty miles southwest of Sacramento. Like I said, I fished you out of the Spruce River the day before last. You had a pretty high fever from lying on the riverbank, and you probably hit your head, which explains why you don't have the foggiest notion as to how you got in the river in the first place." I didn't bother trying to keep my frustration at the whole situation out of my tone. He was silent for several moments.

"Well, thanks for that." He finally said.

I snorted, feeling as if I'd kicked a puppy. "Never mind." I said. "So you can't remember anything?"

He shook his head again. "Sorry."

"Me too. Can you sit up?"

He pushed himself up and settled against one of the boulders, and I ladled some broth into my tin plate and passed it to him.

"Thanks." He said.

I didn't answer. My mind was racing, trying to think of a plan that would let me get rid of this kid and be on my way. I frowned.

"You don't even know your name."

He paused in blowing on the broth to cool it down, and I saw another flicker in his eyes. Sadness.

"No." he said.

So I'd just have to keep calling him 'the kid'. Well, I for one had been called a lot worse things, and if he hadn't then he was lucky. I lifted a bit of the bird into my mouth, mindless of how it burnt my fingers.

"This certainly is a mess." I said more to myself than him.

"You don't have to stick around if you've got somewhere to be." He said stiffly. He must have sensed my thoughts.

"That's not what I meant." I said, although it had been. "If I had anywhere to be, I would already be gone."

He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't argue. Instead he finished the rest of his food in silence and fell back asleep. I pulled some jerky out of my saddle bags since the bird hadn't done much to fill my stomach. As my teeth worked to chew through the leather-like meat, my mind worked to chew through this mess and formulate a solution. Sadly my teeth had more success, and I finally gave up and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He was still asleep when I woke up, but I wasn't surprised. He'd had a pretty close shave, and it would be a while before he was back to himself – whoever that was. In the meantime, I had finally stumbled upon a plan, and it made me feel a lot better as I went to get more water. Even the empty snares didn't stop me from whistling as I made the last bit of my coffee.

"You seem in a good mood." The kid rolled over slightly and sat up.

I shrugged. "Check your pockets." I said.

"What?"

"Your pockets. See if there's anything there that can jog your memory."

His fingers slid first into his jacket pockets, then his pants and finally his shirt, and he pulled out a few crumpled pieces of paper. He carefully peeled them open and then frowned and tossed them to the side.

"Too water stained to read." He said.

I nodded. I had figured as much. "Nothing written on your shirt?" Maybe I'd get lucky and he'd be an escaped convict with a prison number written on the back of his shirt. But after taking his shirt off, he shook his head.

"Lack of foresight on your part." I muttered.

"As if you have your name branded on the backside of your pants." He shot back as he pulled his shirt back over his head. "What is your name anyway?"

"Call me Wade." I wasn't telling him my last name. "And I don't suppose you care what I call you?"

His shrug was about the most bewildered and dispirited that I'd ever seen as he gestured with both hands out. Lucky for him I had a backup plan.

"Have you ever been to Coledale?" I asked.

The air of helplessness turned to anger.

"How should I know?" he snapped.

"I don't know, does the name sound familiar?" My voice matched his sharp tone.

"Maybe. I don't know." His forehead wrinkled. "Could be. Why?"

"The Spruce River runs by it about seven miles upstream of where I found you. Maybe someone there knows you. Maybe you'll even find that Zeke Sullivan you were rambling about when you were unconscious."

Instantly I had his attention. "I was? What else did I say?"

"Not much."

He frowned disappointedly. "Well I guess that's something."

I nodded. "More than something." And it was the best he could hope for from me. It would mean a day's riding back the way I'd come, but if it meant I could get rid of this young problem without my horse staring at me reproachfully, then it was worth it.

"Thanks. If I find out who I am and it turns out I have money I'll repay you." His smile was weak; he was trying to put a brave on an impossible situation. For a moment the corners of my mouth twitched as if to return the smile; then I stood.

"It's too late to start today, and you might as well get another day of rest anyway." I said gruffly.

He wasn't strong enough to go the next day either, so we waited another day. I didn't think he would make it the day after that, but he stubbornly insisted, and I wasn't going to argue. I hadn't forgotten the fact that there were two of us and only one horse, but I'd preferred to ignore it. But the next morning as I saddled the said one horse, there was no way to push that fact to the back of my mind anymore.

"You'll ride, I'll walk." I finally said when we were ready to go. I couldn't ask Tip to carry two people for that long.

"We'll take turns." He said stubbornly, and I nearly laughed out loud.

"You can barely stand up. At least this way there'll be someone to catch you if you collapse and fall off."

He opened his mouth to argue, and I effectively ended the conversation by walking away. A moment later I heard him mount and there was the sound of hoof beats following me, muffled slightly in the hard packed dirt.

We stopped at the creek near where we had first camped to refill my canteens. I shook one thoughtfully. It was heavy now, but it wouldn't last that way for very long. Not with two people drinking out of it, one of whom would be down on foot.

As the day wore on, I became resigned to the fact that it was going to take more than one day to get to Coledale. Even if we'd both been on horses, there was no way the kid would have been able to manage more than a walk. Despite the fact that I'd been joking when I'd said I'd catch him if he fell, there were several times when I'd almost thought I would have to. Each time he'd shake himself a little and say he was fine, his firm eyes daring me to disagree.

_Too bad he can't lie down up there. _I thought after a few more minutes of watching him sway unsteadily, both hands clutching the saddle horn after nearing tumbling forward to the ground. Then I slapped my forehead.

"Hold on." I pulled Tip to a halt and dug my hatchet out of my saddle bags.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He leaned forward slightly, and I saw perspiration on his forehead despite the crisp breeze.

"This isn't working." Fortunately we had reached the river, and there were small limbs and branches strewn about. If I'd tried this earlier I wouldn't have been able to find anything large enough. It made me feel better about thinking of making a litter only just now.

"I'm fine."

"And in another hour or so you'll be shivering and that fever you worked so hard to get rid of will be knocking on your door again." My hands worked as I talked, and soon I had a large enough surface of branches to tie behind Tip. By then the kid had dismounted and was sitting in the edge of the road despite the fact that he claimed to be fine. I shook my head. You had to give him credit for pure orneriness. He glanced doubtfully at my creation, probably wondering whether it would hold. I didn't give him the option.

"Look," I said, "you're tired of riding, and I'm tired of walking. If you think you can manage more than five steps in a row right now, feel free to try. Or you can get on."

The fight went out of him as he exhaled and pushed himself to his feet. I put the hatchet back in my saddlebags and then tossed him my blanket.

"Cover up." I said. "I'm not having my hard work go to waste if you get sick again. And if you even think of getting up to walk, I'll tie you down." Then I mounted. My tired feet slipped gratefully into the stirrups and I nudged Tip into a walk. I didn't want to risk going any faster, but at least the walk was brisker. And I felt much better about going back the way I'd come now that I could make a quick getaway if I had to.

We stopped for the night and reached Coledale a little after noon the next day. I halted Tip on the outskirts so I could get rid of the litter. That kind of thing would attract more attention than I cared to. The kid had been whiter than a sheet last night, but today he seemed more alive than I'd seen him yet, and his grip was almost firm as he shook my hand.

"Thanks again." He said. "You saved my life."

"Don't forget it." I swung back onto Tip. I wasn't much of one for sentimental goodbyes, and I didn't like the fact that while I'd only known him for a few days, I already felt worried about him.

"What are you planning on doing?" the question was out before I could stop it.

He shrugged, that bleak shrug that made it seem as if his shoulders were pushing against an entire world resting on them. "I'll figure something out." He forced a grin, but he couldn't keep back a slight tremor in his voice or a darting look around the strange town.

"Well… good luck." I touched my hat and turned Tip into the town. I wanted to get a few more supplies – namely coffee – but I didn't want to hang around that kid any longer than I needed to. I'd done my friendly deed, been a good Samaritan, and now it was time to worry about my own problems again.

I tied my horse outside the first general store I came across and went up the painted wooden steps, glancing up and down the street quickly first. I very well might have been risking my neck for fresh coffee, but I wasn't going to be stupid about it. The streets were about as busy as one could expect on a Tuesday afternoon, but no one seemed to be paying any special attention to me, and so I went in. There were a few women milling about, but no men besides the one behind the counter. I relaxed slightly and my hand dropped from where it had been hovering by my gun.

"Can I help you, sir?" the man behind the counter asked.

"A pound of coffee." I said. Mentally I ran through my supplies and added jerky, bread, and a few cans of tinned peaches to the list.

"And salt." I said lastly. I always added it liberally to whatever I managed to catch, otherwise the meat tasted bland. As the man scuttled around the store filling up my box, I idly flipped through a newspaper at the counter, not so much because I cared about local news as because people were less likely to talk to a man reading a newspaper, and I had never been one for small talk.

"New in town?" a woman close to my side asked.

I inwardly sighed. Clearly this woman was unfamiliar with the unspoken rules dictating paper reading and conversations.

"Passing through." I said without lifting my eyes from the print. So John Blake – whoever he was – was going to run for sheriff since the old one was retiring. Good for him.

"Well that's too bad; I was going to tell you about the church picnic we're having this Sunday."

I flipped the page and discovered that I could read all about it. But I nodded and kept flipping as she chatted away, batting her eyelashes occasionally. I could feel a flush of irritation creeping up my neck. Women.

"But if you're leaving, I suppose you won't be able to come. How long did you say you were staying in town?"

"I didn't." I flipped to the back page; the obituaries and wedding announcements. I never read this part, too depressing. But I still had hope that if I kept reading she would get the hint.

"Oh, well I'm sure you could find a room at a reasonable price if you decided to stick around. Mike Milligan runs the hotel down the street…"

"And he's getting married too." I mumbled and instantly regretted it.

"He is!" she put a gloved hand on my arm, and I couldn't help but notice that it tightened a little. "You should see his bride to be, such a pretty little thing."

"I'll bet." I mumbled, scanning down to the obituaries. Iram Stoner. Too bad, but then he was sixty three years old. And Mrs. Jerome, well at least she was joining her husband, according to the paper anyway. God might have other plans.

Suddenly my eyes froze as they fell on a name. Ezekiel Sullivan. Zeke Sullivan. I barely heard the woman's babbling voice as I paid and left, almost forgetting to put the paper down, I was so distracted.

_So that's it._ I thought as I loaded my saddle bags. That was the end of the plan. Then again, maybe someone else knew who the kid was. It was possible, more than likely too. He probably had friends all over that could tell him his life story. Wasn't my problem anymore. I took a deep breath. If I hadn't planned on getting involved again, why had I left the store in such a hurry?

_To get rid of that chattering ninny._ Of course. I checked my cinch and swung up into the saddle.

"Not my problem." I muttered.

Still, it couldn't hurt to swing by and tell the kid myself. He might as well hear it from someone he knew, no matter how barely. And I was the only person in the world he knew right now, himself included.


End file.
